


Like Smoke

by 3BeesAndCoffee3



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bubble Bath, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Rides Steve, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Hickeys, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Making Out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Riding, SO, Spit As Lube, Steve Rogers is a good boyfriend, Super Soldier Serum, Teasing, They Fuck On The Floor, Top Steve Rogers, after sex cuddles, baths, it has everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3BeesAndCoffee3/pseuds/3BeesAndCoffee3
Summary: Prompt: Can you maybe write a fic where Bucky/the Winter soldier starts having a panic attack and Steve has to calm him down (which might include fucking him) thanks.Or where Bucky needs something to take his mind off of everything going on in his head, and Steve has a solution.





	Like Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: My Tumblr
> 
> Requests are always open!

Bucky’s only been staying with Steve for a little over a month, and things are still rickety. Bucky still wakes up with his shirt sticking to his skin from a cold sweat and his breathing a little too fast; he still spends days locked in his room where he doesn’t eat or talk. There are still days where Bucky’s head is buzzing with bad thoughts and the ghost of feeling his hands around someone’s throat, or his finger hovering over the hairline-trigger of a gun.

Steve’s patient with him, because of course he is. Even when Steve worries so much it makes his hands shake and his stomach flip and clench unnervingly. Sometimes he wakes up to Bucky standing uncertainly in his doorway, eyes tired and weary, and he just pats the bed, right beside him, and Bucky crawls in uncertainly. They sleep silently, with Bucky’s back pressed firmly against Steve’s front. He’ll do anything for Bucky.

He thinks about what things were like for them before all of this; when Steve was still small and sick, and the rolls were very much reversed. He thinks about the strange thrum his heart would get when Bucky snaked one of his strong arms around his thin middle. Or, when Bucky would give him a long, silent look, with his eyes trained on Steve’s lips, so blatantly even Steve hadn’t missed it. Bucky’s eyes were like sin.

Whatever they had before is like smoke now.

When Steve gets home from the grocery store, arms full of paper bags loaded with fruit and various vegetables, a few baguettes from the bakery; the lights are all still off. He left Bucky a note on the counter, because he always slinks into the kitchen for a cup of coffee in the morning, he figured he would have seen it. He knows Bucky doesn’t like leaving the house much when he can help it. He thinks for a second that maybe Bucky’s still asleep, but it’s past noon and Bucky is lucky if he sleeps until eight. He sets everything down on the counter closest to him and heads wearily towards Bucky’s room. He’s not scared of Bucky, the most he’s ever done since moving here is give Steve’s a fat lip, and it wasn’t entirely his fault either. He had been scared and Steve didn’t give him space, there had been bad communication. He’s always more worried of what might be wrong with Bucky.

“Buck?” Steve asks, and he’s fairly hushed just to make sure he doesn’t scare him. He’s hardly loud enough he’ll hear him if he’s in his own room. Nothing.

He slowly approaches Bucky’s door and knocks lightly but there’s still nothing, so he slowly cracks open the door, entering slowly. The sheets are a mess on the floor, the bed void of Bucky, and the lamp is half way across the room, ripped from the outlet. It’s not a completely unfamiliar state to see Bucky’s room in.

“Bucky, hey,” he says gently, eyes focusing on the heap in the corner, between the bed and the wall.

He can see Bucky’s frame trembling, hands brought up and tangled in his hair. He’s bulked up quite a bit since he moved in with Steve, no longer skin pulled tight over bone. He’s got meat on him, over the start of forming muscles again. It makes him happy, seeing the start of domesticity set in.

“Sorry,” Bucky rasps as Steve crouches down in front of him. His fingers are picking and pulling at his hair a little, just a nervous twitch, but Steve places is hands over Bucky’s anyways. He doesn’t like when he does that.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Steve says softly, rubbing his thumb along the lines of Bucky’s hand, feeling his fingers drum nervously beneath his own. “What happened?” He asks the question gently, voice soft and what he hopes is comforting. Bucky doesn’t always know or remember what triggers his panic attacks, so the question is a stab in the dark, but sometimes it’s worth asking, just incase he can put his thoughts at ease.

Bucky shakes his head jerkily through a shaky exhale, shuddering as he does.

Steve moves to comfort him any and all ways the second Bucky’s head shakes, like his brain flips a switch. He’s gotten good at comforting him most of the time, when it’s guilt, he can put his thoughts to rest and tell him the truth, that it’s not his fault; and when it’s one like it is now, where neither of them really know, he does what he can to comfort and distract him.

He rubs his hand over Bucky’s, moving the other to press against his shoulder in a way that’s usually firm but still comforting. “It’s okay, everything’s okay,” Steve breathes, leaning back onto the ball of his heels. “C'mere.” He holds his arms out a little in a welcoming gesture without taking his hands off of him.

It’s a little awkward, but it works, and Bucky moves into the space without looking or budging from the tight ball he’s made himself into. “It’s too much,” Bucky mumbles, voice croaky and edging on the familiar sound of exhaustion.

“What is?” Steve rests his chin on Bucky’s head after moving his right hand down to rest in his lap. Bucky shifts a little, twisting his hands into the material of his own shirt, forehead resting against Steve’s chest and a small part of his shoulder.

“Everything?”

Steve smiles gently, even though Bucky can’t see it. “It’s okay, it’ll get better.”

Bucky shrugs in response.

“Hey, would I lie?” Steve teases, jabbing a finger into Bucky’s side. He twists to get away from it without avail, making a indignant grunting noise in protest.

“No,” Bucky finally says with an annoyed sigh. “But that only helps so much.”

Steve hums, low and thoughtful, running his chin along Bucky’s soft hair. He runs a hand over the small of Bucky’s back, and feels the way his muscles tense and flex under the touch. Bucky breathes out a shaky breath against Steve’s skin and it’s a weird moment where his breath catches in his throat and he wants to be a tiny kid in Brooklyn again with Bucky nosing along is neck and his hands snaking under Steve’s shirt. He wishes Bucky would remember.

“What would help?” Steve asks, voice coming out in a low breath. He didn’t mean for it to, but it slipped and the way Bucky’s body presses against him is making his skin tingle.

Bucky shrugs slightly, and presses his lips against Steve’s neck, chapped and warm. He’s not sure if it’s purposeful, but Steve holds on a little tighter. “If only I knew.”

Steve breathes out slowly and manages a small nod, without hitting his chin against Bucky’s skull. Steve wishes he knew what would help too.

“You’re warm,” Bucky says after a long pause, almost as a side note. He presses himself further into the heat of Steve’s arms.

Steve chuckles a little, tilting his neck to the side and feeling Bucky’s stubble scratch softly along his skin, breath light and cool. “You’re not,” Steve says back, even though there’s a warm heat building in him from the way Bucky’s skin is rubbing all the right ways against his own. He should make an excuse to leave, get Bucky back in bed, and maybe get himself into a hot shower; but he doesn’t.

Bucky lets out a noise between a hum and a chuckle, low and almost amused. There’s the faint lines on his cheeks still, of where un-wiped tears dried, but he looks somewhat put together. Some kind of oddly cool exterior Bucky’s always had. “Then do something about it,” Bucky snarks back, in his typical way, but it causes Steve’s brain to short circuit, because naturally, his brain goes to all the wrong places.

Finally, after a completely unwarrantedly long amount of time goes by, he manages to pull himself together enough to respond with a slightly shaky, “how do you want me to do that, exactly?” Which isn’t very smooth, but it works. It’s something.

He can actually feel the way Bucky smirks against his skin, and Steve practically chokes on his own spit. “Get creative, Rogers,” he shrugs, managing to nuzzle himself in even closer until he’s all but straddling Steve’s lap uncoordinatedly. “You’re the one with their dick getting twitchy.”

“What?” Steve sputters, eyes wide as he pulls away from Bucky a little, which isn’t easy since he’s made himself like glue. He’s like a fucking octopus when he wants to be, that’s never changed. Bucky raises an eyebrow in silent question, but he looks pleased with himself so Steve guesses he already knows.

“Make me feel better,” Bucky breathes, biting the plump swell of his bottom lip between his teeth. The skin there is a little chapped, been worried between his teeth too much, but it’s fat and blushing pink from the raw attention too, and honestly, he looks heavenly.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat and he wants to curl up and die.

“Please?”

Steve’s eyes roll back a little as Bucky grinds himself gently down against his lap, which Bucky’s still perched on happily and with unfair ease.   
“Christ,” Steve hisses, letting his hand slowly slide down the expanse of Bucky’s back towards the round curve of his ass. This feels entirely too dirty; maybe the situation, or maybe that he hasn’t been quite this intimate in a long time, let alone with Bucky. Ever.

Regardless, it’s what Bucky asked for so sweetly, and he would do anything for him. He couldn’t say no to a face like that and with words smoother than honey.

Bucky starts rocking himself slowly in Steve’s lap while he runs his hands along Bucky’s ass, squeezing experimentally. The soft sigh he gives in return is enough motivation for Steve, and he feels himself chub up a little in his pants beneath Bucky’s weight.

“That good?” Bucky asks softly, voice breathy and warm where he’s pressing his face against Steve’s neck, panting softly and mouthing at him when he remembers. He probably doesn’t need an answer, he can already tell this is exactly what Steve craves, but he gasps a soft reply anyways.

It’s almost odd, knowing he’s not the only one who wanted this.

“God, Buck,” Steve gasps, face feeling hot and embarrassed at the high pitched whine that escapes him along with his words.

Bucky presses a wet kiss to the underside of Steve’s jaw, still rocking his hips against Steve. He hums contently, and watches hazily as Bucky palms himself through his pajama pants. He’s already almost fully hard, if the tent in his pants is anything to go by, and it makes Steve want to grind up wantonly against him. “Definitely helping,” Bucky breathes, body shivering slightly as Steve’s hand slips into the waistband of his pants from the back.

He shouldn’t be terribly surprised, but his breath catches slightly when his fingers touch the soft skin underneath Bucky’s pants. He’s not wearing underwear, which he notes absently. Not that he’s complaining. God, he’s not complaining. “Good,” Steve murmurs back.

Bucky presses back into Steve’s touch, grinding his hips a little. “Come on, don’t be a tease.”

Steve chuckles a little, catches Bucky’s lips in a dry, heavy kiss. Their teeth clack together a little, but it goes relatively unnoticed as Steve slides his index finger along the dip of Bucky’s ass.

“What do you want me to do?” Steve asks as he pulls back from their rushed kiss, watching the way Bucky’s eyes glaze over a little as he pants softly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Steve only asks because honestly, he doesn’t know exactly what Bucky wants from him, and he’ll be damned if he makes Bucky upset again. He’s determined to do anything and everything Bucky craves.

“Fuck, whatever, anything,” Bucky groans, clapping a hand over Steve’s shoulder to brace himself, his right hand rubbing the line of his cock through his pants. “Just please.” And he outright whines the last part.

Steve breathes out heavily, latching onto Bucky’s neck and sucking as he works Bucky’s pants off. He gets them around his thighs without having to move him off his lap, and it’s enough; and he doesn’t miss the way Bucky’s dick practically slaps his stomach, angry and leaking. He pulls back from where he’s been sucking and nibbling to suck in a breath, looking at the dark spot slowly forming on Bucky’s abused skin. It’ll fade too fast, but for now it looks angry and red. He looks good marked up like that.

“Gonna fuck you, Buck,” Steve breathes out through a moan, not missing the way Bucky’s hips jerk at his words. “You want that?”

Bucky whines in response, high and needy, but Steve wants words; needs that confirmation, so he gives Bucky’s naked ass a little squeeze. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, you know I do, Rogers; now get on with it,” he snaps, even though the words are still hitched and breathy; soft. Steve grins. It all sounds so purely Bucky, and it’s something he didn’t know he craved until now.

Steve pushes his fingers past Bucky’s parted lips without another thought, groaning inwardly at the way Bucky automatically seals his pink lips around the two digits, lathing his tongue over them without having to be told.

“That’s it, good boy,” Steve purrs, his free hand smoothing over Bucky’s back and ass comfortingly, though the touches probably come across a little teasing.

Bucky practically whines at the compliment, sucking a little more eagerly at his fingers, like he craves pleasing Steve like this. It’s unbelievably hot, and Steve finds himself leaking into his boxers a little as Bucky mindlessly rocks himself in Steve’s lap.

“Get’m nice and wet,” Steve says softly, licking a stripe over Bucky’s neck where he left the hickey, tasting the slight salty bite of sweat there.

He pulls his fingers away from Bucky after a few more minutes of Bucky making desperate little grunting noises around him. It’s driving Steve nearly insane. Bucky’s eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide as he looks at Steve, a thread of spit still connecting Steve’s fingers to his swollen lips. He sees the want all over Bucky’s face, watches in awe as the tip of Bucky’s pink tongue darts out to lick over his lips, slightly wetting them.

Steve has to drag his eyes away, refocus himself on what he was doing. “You ready for me, baby? Ready for me to fuck you on my fingers until you’re begging?”

The dirty talk comes with surprising ease, just rolling off his tongue.

Bucky groans, face falling against Steve’s shoulder where he pants heavily against him, shoulders slack. “Yeah, fuck Stevie.”

He absently and subconsciously thanks Tony for the expanse of porn he’d eventually gotten Steve to explore. He figures it’s one of the only reasons he’s even remotely good with Dirty talk, but it really does come naturally with Bucky. He loves the way Bucky preens with the compliments and encouragement.

He rubs one of his slicked fingers along Bucky’s hole, smirking at the way Bucky goes rigid and gasps softly against him. “You like that?” Steve asks, even though he can tell he does, by the way he’s wrapping his hand around his dick and fisting it jerkily. 

“Yeah, please,” Bucky gasps, rolling his hips against Steve.

Steve groans softly and presses his first finger into his hole, listening to Bucky pant and whimper before he’s even got his cock out. He takes his finger with surprising ease, rocking back against him. He’s tight, and Steve can’t suppress a low groan at the thought of feeling Bucky around his dick.

He continues to fuck his fingers in and out of him, slowly adding one after the other, until he has three fingers deep in Bucky, rubbing along inside of him and making him gasp and rock back against them. Bucky’s probably open enough by now, hole slick with a combination of their spit, but he can’t get enough of the noises he makes every time he curls his fingers up.

“Shit, please,” Bucky gasps, and it’s obvious that if he doesn’t hurry, Bucky’s going to come with Steve’s fingers in his ass and his fist around his dick.

“Shh, I gotcha,” Steve hums, slowly pulling his fingers from Bucky, wiping the slickness off on the carpet mindlessly. There’s a soft whine at the loss of contact and sudden emptiness inside of Bucky, and Steve watches hungrily as he fucks lazily back against nothing.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Steve mumbles as he frees himself from his jeans, pulling his boxers down enough he can get a better grip on his length. It’s awkward, still having Bucky on his lap, but he’ll make it work, because he’s not gonna get picky now, when he’s about to fuck the brains out of Bucky. He has priorities.

“Fuck, yeah, need you.”

Steve grins, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as he lines himself up with Bucky’s ready hole, rubbing the overly sensitive and precome slicked head of his cock along his rim.

He suppresses a low groan, grips Bucky’s shoulders.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, and he sounds close to breaking. It sounds gorgeous coming from him like this, and Steve wants nothing more than to push him past what he can take and let him fall apart in his hands, manipulate and play with Bucky until he’s a puddle in his hands; but this isn’t about Steve. It’s about Bucky, and that isn’t what Bucky needs. Bucky needs a firm, controlling and stable hand, he needs to be loved and touched. So that’s what he does.

Slowly, with a low groan from the feeling of Bucky tighten around him, hot and perfect; he slides in. Little at a time, edging his way in. He can tell there’s a bit of a burn from no real lube, but Bucky’s fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he’s practically sobbing with every breathy ‘yes’ he’s sputtering.

“Shit, you’re tight.”

Bucky moans against Steve’s shoulder, the muscles in his back taught and stressed as he slowly works himself onto Steve cock. He’s breathing heavily, digging his fingers into Steve’s shoulders as he adjusts.

“More–” Bucky’s voice is hardly above a whisper, but Steve doesn’t miss it, and he jerks his hips up, letting his eyes roll back and his mouth fall slack as Bucky takes him so well.

It only takes a second before Bucky’s bracing himself against Steve with unsteady hands and starts slowly working his hips up and down, letting himself get fucked slowly.

Bucky sighs softly, voice pitched with need at every rise and fall of his body. Steve lets him for a while, just mindlessly working himself, body actually shaking with how much he needs Steve. He waits until Bucky tells him what he needs to hear.

“Steve, please,” Bucky grits out the words with noticeable effort, like it’s actually difficult for him to ask for this; to ask for Steve to take over and give him what he needs. Maybe he just needs this, to feel Steve’s hands on his body and taking control over him for a while. Just let Bucky’s brain focus on what Steve’s doing, instead of letting it wander to those bad places.

“What do you need, Buck?”

Bucky shivers, jerks his cock a little faster in his hand, making a low, desperate kind of noise. “Need you; need you to fuckin’ move.”

Steve hums, moves against him slowly, lets his dick sink into Bucky again, deeper this time. He grips his hips too, tight, until he’s digging into Bucky’s flesh and his knuckles turn white.

“Okay, shh, shh baby, I’ve gotcha,” Steve mumbles, kissing along the taught line of his neck as he fucks up a little harder and a little faster paced, successfully earning a high pitched gasp; breathy and desperate for more.

“Oh fuck, Steve!”

Steve grunts, raises Bucky’s hips up to meet every snap of his hips. He’s gaining speed with every moan that falls from Bucky’s mouth, edging him on.

“Fuck, fuck,” Bucky moans, wiping his thumb over the head of his cock as he sinks back down again.

Steve’s already close; he can feel his orgasm growing and coiling low in his stomach. If the circumstances had been different, maybe he’d feel bad for not lasting so long, but fuck, Bucky’s tight and hot around his cock and it’s been so damn long…

Bucky looks close too, the head of his cock an angry red, leaking steadily by now. His face is flushed and his skin is sweaty, hair sticking to his face, and his mouth open just enough Steve can see his tongue, bitten lightly between his teeth.

Steve continues fucking into him, letting Bucky work his hips up too, both groaning every time he hits his prostate. It feels good, not like any sex Steve’s had in years (which is admittedly not much). It feels like he’s fucking floating, and it’s just Bucky. Only Bucky. So, ridiculously, purely Bucky.

“Steve, Steve, I’m gonna fuckin’ come, please,” Bucky rushes, working his cock fast in his hand, riding Steve frantically until his thighs shake. His face is scrunched up, eyes squeezed tight as he moans.

“Come for me, come on, I’ve got you,” Steve breathes, his eyes rolling back as he feels Bucky tighten around him.

“Fuck, oh my god.”

He snaps his hips up with vigor, drinking up the sweet sounds coming from Bucky. He’s so unraveled; Steve hasn’t seen him like this in such a long time, maybe ever. It’s a bizarre kind of erotic, seeing him so trusting and undone, completely gone and in Steve’s control. It only drives him harder.

Steve’s stifling a moan as Bucky comes over his hand, spilling his seed onto their stomaches too. Bucky practically sobs with his release, and Bucky’s so damn noisy, all of it goes straight to Steve’s dick. Bucky’s shoulders are shaking, muscles tensing and flexing instinctively under the weight of it all.

Steve’s still close, and only brought closer with the way Bucky’s practically convulsing around him, clenching down. He pushes Bucky down onto his back. Steve pulls Bucky’s legs over his shoulders, maneuvering Bucky’s hips until he can pound into him like he fucking craves; uncaring of the carpet scraping and burning his hands and Bucky’s back.

“Shit,” Bucky gasps, practicality screeching it out, his voice cracking.

“So good, so fucking good,” Steve’s breathing heavily, chanting the words, and it’s honestly all he can think about.

“Steve, fucking hell!”

Steve almost, almost stops, looking down at Bucky through the bits of hair that’s fallen in his face, sticking there with sweat. “You-?”

“Fucking move,” Bucky growls, his cock still leaking onto his stomach a little, face hot and flushed pink.

Steve can’t hide his smirk before he resumes his ruthless pace, watching Bucky gasp and writhe under him until he’s had enough and Steve’s finally coming, pulling out before he’s finished and letting it splatter against Bucky’s stomach with a deep, uneven breath. He pumps his spent cock for a long second after that, eyes focused on Bucky’s face; red and undone with overstimulation and pleasure. He’d come again right now if he could, just from the look on Bucky’s face.

He can feel himself trembling, listening to the muffled pounding of his heart in his ears. It feels like he’s on fucking fire, and he’s pretty sure it shouldn’t feel this good, but he’s on cloud nine right now.

Bucky’s legs slip from Steve’s shoulder, practically weightless. He’s sprawled on the floor under the brunt of Steve’s weight. (He’s not sure when he leaned into him so much, his legs feel like jelly.) his face is still flushed, lips swollen and parted, his cheeks are a warm pink, Bucky’s chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths as he relaxes, body giving under the heft of his panic and then what Steve thinks might have been a bit much, as far as some gentle, therapeutic, physical attention goes.

Neither are complaining, so he keeps his mouth shut and rolls off to the side, swinging an arm out to throw across Bucky. He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the cooling semen he gets instead, still covering a fair portion of Bucky’s lower stomach.

Bucky hums out a low laugh, lips quirking up in a half smile; though his eyes are closed.

“Oh, shut up,” Steve grumbles, and his voice comes out surprisingly gruff.

“Didn’ say anything.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He pulls himself in closer to Bucky regardless, ignoring the faint itch of the carpet against his sweaty skin.

“You’re gross,” Steve mutters playfully. Bucky elbows him in the side. “Need a washcloth.”

“I need a damn bath,” he mutters softly. He sounds half asleep already; looks half asleep too, with his eyes closed and his body limp like that.

Steve guesses it’s pretty uncomfortable, the come cooling and flaking on his skin; so he forces himself up and yanks Bucky up with a grunt.

“What’re you doin’?” Bucky asks, cracking open an eye to give him a skeptic look. His arm goes around Steve automatically.

Steve smiles at him, fingers mindlessly rubbing little circles in Bucky’s back. “You said you needed a bath,” he says with a shrug and Bucky gives an amused and affirmative little humph.

Bucky nuzzles his face into Steve’s shoulder, sighing softly as he does. Bucky’s like a leech after sex, not that he’s complaining. Steve wonders if it’s because he never got to stick around with any of the pretty girls he used to take home. It’s kind of cute, in a way.

“You gonna take one with me?”

“Do you want me to?”

Bucky grunts again, curling his limbs tighter around Steve.

“Okay, okay,” Steve agrees, standing up with little effort, holding Bucky up like he’s nothing. It probably looks ridiculous, and Bucky actually laughs a little, but it works, and Bucky doesn’t wanna walk anyways.

“Feel better?” Steve asks, after they’ve made their way into the bathroom; Bucky perched on the counter as Steve runs a bath, grabbing a bottle of lavender bubble bath Natasha had given him. What? He likes baths, okay?

“Mm, yeah,” Bucky hums, picking at a split end in his hair. There’s plenty of them, and he knows vaguely that he needs it cut. “We should do that more often.”

“What? Fuck you during some kind of panic attack?” Steve’s joking, really. He pours some of the bubble bath into the warm water.

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky smirks, resting his chin on his hand, arm resting on his bare leg.

“I’m getting us therapy.”

Bucky snorts and jumps off the counter, sauntering over to Steve and wrapping his arms around him. They’re still naked, and his body is warm against Steve’s and he wants to revel in it forever.

Maybe they can just work something out.


End file.
